


Righteous Man

by Benjamin_Hale



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Dancing, Eventual Smut, Exorcisms, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, It's Gay Carol, M/M, Slow Burn, Undying Adoration Of Each Other, Wing AU, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 07:12:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Benjamin_Hale/pseuds/Benjamin_Hale
Summary: Tomas Ortega is despised by the religious community. His wings are black, while others are white or gold. Those with wings are blessed with holy powers, but Tomas has the ability to speak directly with demons. He has not trusted anyone in a long time.Introducing Marcus Keane, a lonely exorcist who ran from the church after the abuse he endured at the hands of them. He comes across Tomas' name while looking for help, immediately realizing that Tomas might just be the companion he's needed all along.The two travel the country, even going across the seas to rid the world of demons, working together to discover as much as they can about the oncoming war between Heaven and Hel, whilst trying to discover themselves along the way.





	Righteous Man

**Author's Note:**

> The bloody summary makes this sound like an empowering teen romance novel, which I guess is kind of what this is, but with a lot more blood, gore, religious imagery, and death.

Sun shone through the dirty windows of the cheap motel, no surprises when Tomas found out it would cost no more than fifty dollars a night. He rolled over on the lumpy mattress, shielding his eyes from the assault of light pouring through the window opposite the pitiful excuse of a bed.

To be quite honest, it was probably one of the better beds that Tomas had slept in. He laid out one of the warm - albeit scratchy - blankets over the mattress, which covered up most of the stains (some resembled blood, others resembled other genetic material. The blood was the one he questioned the least in such an establishment), and provided a somewhat comfortable surface to sleep on. He could feel a few springs digging into his wings, which he had wrapped around himself for more warmth.

Overall, it had been one of the better rests he’d had in the past few months. No worry of being killed as he slept, as the room had a fairly reliable lock on both the door and windows. No demonic or otherwise negative presences that he would need to rid of before he slept. The only downside was the lack of curtains, which gave the sun free reign to blind him as he woke.

Quite a rude awakening, but it was better being blinded than stabbed.

Tomas sighed, sliding out from between the sheets, stretching out his wings and reveling in the warmth of the sun through the glass. A few stray black feathers fell onto the sheets as Tomas folded his wings in, wrapping the sheet around himself and walking to the bathroom.

He hesitated before opening the door, pushing it with little force. Some of it was because he feared something malicious would be waiting for him behind the door, but most of his worry was that the moldy door would simply snap off its hinges, and he honestly could not afford the fee for replacing it.

The true horror of this earth; taxes.

Tomas shuffled over to the mirror, splotches of dirt covering it, as well as what could only be assumed to be vomit. He stared into the eyes of his reflection, dark brown, dark circles from lacking sleep and stress.

Tomas Ortega, thirty-six, no remaining family or friends. Those were the definite facts, and there were a few he’d picked up from others, mostly priests and the likes;

Demon, hellspawn, worthless. All of it, he’d heard before. He thought, after a few years, it would get easier to hear, he’d be able to brush it off, but no. Every time he heard the words leave someone’s lips, he could feel his heart stop and his fingers begin to shake. Even thinking of his past brought him close to tears, his arm moving of its own accord, fingers absently brushing over one of the welts on his back.

He shuddered, backing away from the mirror, grimacing at the phantom pains on his wings and back. Most of the time, Tomas could ignore it. Ignore the disgust he felt regarding his body, ignore the overwhelming urge to clip his own wings, fully aware that he would likely die during the process.

The intrusive thoughts ceased when he stepped into the shower, scalding droplets cascading down his back, catching in his hair and feathers. He dragged a hand through his dark hair, sighing as he remembered how curly it would be when it dried. It did feel nice to rid his body of the grease and filth, though. Tomas’ wings twitched as each droplet of water hit them. A few more feathers fell. Tomas sighed as he noticed. He’d not known anyone else to lose the feathers from their wings. He could only assume it was another side effect of his _demonic_ heritage. He stepped from the shower as quick as he could, not wanting to see his naked body for longer than necessary.

The water shut off, bringing silence to the tiled room. Tomas hummed softly to himself, a song that played repeatedly on the radio. He had no idea of the name but found it to be quite an enjoyable song, despite the repetitive playing. He wrapped a towel around his waist, his wings shaking to dry themselves off, flicking water around the room. He combed his hair, trying in vain to get it as straight as possible before it dried.

Just then, he heard a noise. His ears twitched, wings curling into a defensive position. It took him all of three seconds to realize he had left his weapons in the main room, cursing inwardly at his own stupidity. Tomas pressed his ear to the door, listening intently. He could hear footsteps echoing around the room on the other side, muffled slightly by the carpet. By the weight behind the steps, he knew it was a male, likely wearing boots. These facts scared him, his breath becoming shaky and his hands trembled by his sides.

He took a deep breath before opening the door.

The intruder turned around to look at Tomas, who was standing partially nude and dripping water in the door frame of the bathroom. Tomas could feel him staring at his wings, so took the time to analyze the man who had sat on his bed, seemingly making himself quite at home.

The man was roughly between his late forties and early fifties, light brown hair, a fairly well-groomed beard/ mustache combo, and piercing blue eyes.

Tomas assumed that if he were to die by the hand of this stranger, then he would have been killed by an angel.

He shut out the intruding thoughts with his confusion and remaining fear, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. The (handsome) stranger tore his gaze from the large black wings, smiling as he looked Tomas in the eye (crows feet, Tomas noted, and he makes them look _good_?). The man stood, causing Tomas to back up a little in fear. The man then proceeded to raise his hands, showing that he was unarmed. He opened his mouth to speak, realizing that Tomas was probably in too much shock to say anything,

“My name is Marcus Keane. I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to ask a favor. Word has it, you can talk directly to demons, including those possessing the bodies of humans. In return, you’ll have food, shelter, and payment.”

Tomas brought his wings in slightly, noticing the ache from how tensed they’d become. There was a soft look in the eyes of the man- Marcus. He didn’t feel scared, strangely calmed by his presence. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say anything, only able to manage a tense nod. 

“Right, Tomas. Pack your things, get dressed, and some food and a drink. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us,” Marcus went to leave the room, but was stopped by a hand grabbing his forearm. He tensed a little, but realized he wasn’t in any danger,

“How do you know my name?” Tomas asked, eyes wide with confusion. The sunlight caused them to look a light honey brown shade, almost seeming to glow. Marcus smiled down at him, prying his arm from the man’s grip,

“I’ll tell you everything in the car. Now, pack, we don’t have time to waste.”


End file.
